#transpositive

[kimmyata]

💙💙💙

[canis-latransbian]

It's my one year cuntiversary!! And true to brand, I remembered with 20 minutes to go lolol.

[zegalba]

Cuppetelli & Mendoza: Transposition (2013)

[jhsharman]

"You Go To My Head"

The "correction" makes zero sense to me, given it is Veronica misidentifying a name, and makes some sense in transposing the first sound for the first and last names. Maybe they decided alluding to a "huck", as in huckster, was not quite right? He is not even a character in the story.

[swirlmup]

It was soon after this incident that I found out that you could fast travel from anywhere on the map, and you didn't have to interact directly with a waypoint to do it.

[septembriseur]

For the few very patient Transpo-heads, since the next update is going to be several chapters and will still take a bit: here is an outtake snippet that should now be considered alternate universe, from a scene that I ended up reconceptualizing:

She doesn’t want to die, even though being in this room gives her that same sensation, a sensation like someone’s rapped her firmly against the edge of a bowl and cracked her open to expose all her gross runny yolky insides. She doesn’t know if prison cells are just like that, or if it’s something about Telford himself, something about the way he occupies the cell: sitting perfectly composed in the aura of a spotlight, dressed in a black SGC uniform with no name-tape or markings on it, and it feels like all the dark energies in the room flow towards him. Dark as in— not dark as in sinister, except maybe dark as in sinister as in the Latin sense where it means left-handed. Not the obvious energies in the room, but the covert ones; not the matter but the antimatter, invisible to scientific detection but carrying information to where Telford reads and discards it, the way that Chloe was read and discarded before as soon as she entered the room. Like a waiting-room magazine or a flipped-through book. It makes her feel really used-up and helpless, which, she thinks, is the point, but knowing that it’s the point doesn’t help her.

She almost turns around and walks right back out. She’s half-started to when Telford says suddenly: “You were in Bethesda.”

Chloe freezes. “Um— yeah, I was,” she says.

“You’re not military. Who are you?”

“I’m Chloe,” she says. “Chloe Armstrong.”

“I thought they were sending Young to interrogate me.”

“I’m not an interrogator,” Chloe says.

He tilts his head, considering this information. “Why are you here?”

The way he says it, a pyrrhic followed by a spondee— why/ are/ you/, pause, here/— makes her feel like a Rubik’s cube that he’s thinking about solving. That feeling makes her rebellious. She’s tired of people treating her like a toy. She says, “Maybe everybody else had better things to do.”

Telford huffs out an amused breath. “Maybe they did.”

“You’re kind of yesterday’s news around here.”

“Is that right?” He leans back in his chair. He has that tendency to let his knees splay open that really confident men often have, a kind of sitting-still swagger that basically reads as, Hey, look, here’s my dick. But it’s not so much sex, Chloe thinks, as it is about carelessness, a total lack of attention to how one takes up space. She remembers sitting in front at a school assembly when she was about thirteen and being reminded to keep her legs together. It doesn’t look nice to sit there with your legs open, the teacher said. Chloe had learned already that it was important to look nice, that it was necessary for her to always be aware of how she looked.

She thinks that Telford, too, might have reasons to always be aware of what he looks like. That he might be doing this on purpose, sitting there with his legs splayed out. She might not have thought of it if Wray hadn’t given her that file folder. It had never occurred to her before to wonder who Telford was, where he came from, why— with his brushstroke eyes and heavy black hair— he looks the way he does. Maybe if his name hadn’t been… but the name David Telford was just so normal. Is that racist? It’s probably racist, which is so shaming that she feels a flush start at the bottom of her neck and creep up.

It must show. Telford studies her with a knowing expression. “What did they do, give you my file to read? Bet that was a blast. You look like you’re about twelve years old; do you seriously have Icarus clearance?”

Chloe feels her shoulders hunch defensively. “Yes. And— yes.”

“Jesus, they’re just handing it out to anybody, aren’t they? So much for infosec.”

Chloe dips her head. She’s not sure if she’s fighting back a smile or a hard swallow. “You sound like Rush.”

“I think that’s the most insulting thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Telford says, deadpan.

They look at each other. A current of… something runs between them, just for a moment, like some small part of that dark energy in the room has changed hands. Then Telford looks away and it’s gone.

“My— um, my mom’s running for Senate,” Chloe says, by way of an explanation. “If she wins, she’ll be in charge of the appropriations package for the SGC.”

Telford’s lip curls. “Ah. Politics.”

“The seat she’s running for— it used to be my dad’s. You killed him in September.”

She searches for some reaction in Telford’s face, but there isn’t any. “I don’t seem to recall killing any dads in September,” he says.

“You, like,” Chloe says. “You, the Lucian Alliance.”

“Well, I’m not a member of the Lucian Alliance. And I’d like to see anyone try to prove otherwise.”

“You were working for them,” Chloe says.

“I guess it depends on your definition.”

“I guess it does,” Chloe says. “I mean, I guess I can see the argument that maybe you don’t work for anybody. Only against people. Against everybody.”

Telford laughs pretty humorlessly. “So, what— in the storm of progress, I’m the wind that bitchslaps the angel of history? I mean, as a cheap and dirty piece of characterization, I’ll take it.”

Chloe frowns at him. “What angel of… are you talking about Walter Benjamin?”

“I’m talking about Rush; obviously the angel is Rush. He would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed— come on, of course it’s Rush.” Telford rolls his eyes. “Just fucking letting himself get steamrolled into the future, never actually figuring out how to fix shit.”

Chloe remembers, vaguely, reading about the Angel of History. Mostly she remembers the Paul Klee painting that was connected to it: a weird and tortured-looking assembly of lines, with a mouth like a skull and eyes that never faced forwards. It had wings, but they didn’t look like wings; they looked like two misshapen hands holding a length of string between them. She had thought he was measuring something, but she hadn’t known what or why. When she pictures the painting in her head, she thinks the angel looked like Young. It’s not a very helpful observation. She’s angry with herself that she hadn’t paid more attention in college, angry that she can’t think of anything intelligent to say.

She finds herself staring down at her ballet flats in lieu of any response. Maybe because she’s thinking of Rush: always barefoot as he sulked around her house. She might not know enough about the Angel of History to have an opinion about whether or not Rush is the angel, but she can’t imagine any angel sulking around a Georgetown townhouse while barefoot. Or breaking her coffee machine. Does Telford know that about Rush, that he can’t work a coffee machine and always seems to end up barefoot? Does Telford know the real Rush, the now Rush? The thought emboldens her a little.

“To answer your original question,” she says, “the reason they gave me Icarus clearance is because I already knew everything.” She shrugs with one shoulder. “Pretty much.”

Telford looks interested. “Ah,” he says. “So you’re the babysitter.”

“The babysitter?”

“An object heretofore not known empirically, as Rush might say, but whose existence was hypothesized on the basis of the facts. I.e., Rush and the redhead wouldn’t have lasted twenty-four hours back on Earth without one. Ergo, babysitter.”

Chloe says, “I’m not the babysitter.”

“—No?” Telford says. He ponders this. “By your tone of disgust, I take it you must be fucking one of them, instead. But not Rush. Surely. But does the redhead fuck? That’s the question.”

“I don’t think that’s a serious question.”

“It’s so hard to tell with Lucians. Then again, maybe you are fucking Rush. But I assume he’s fucking Young now. Well, to get into the nitty-gritty of it, I assume that Young’s fucking him.”

Chloe finds herself thinking that a month spent in Ginn and Rush’s company was probably not bad training for having this conversation. “I haven’t been briefed on Dr. Rush and Colonel Young’s domestic arrangements,” she says. “Sorry. If I’d known it was so important to you, I would’ve asked.”

Telford hmms. “But they do have domestic arrangements. A little honeymoon nest at Cheyenne Mountain? —No. No way. It’d fuck Young’s career too much. Which means they’re off-base. Which is, I got to hand it to you, pretty gutsy.”

“I didn’t say that,” Chloe says. Of course, it’s true. Wray had finally managed to get Rush and Young relocated to a civilian location outside the mountain. It’d been on very short notice, and Chloe didn’t know all the details of how it had happened; she only know that Wray had had to announce it only after Rush and Young were already gone, and Ginn had, predictably, flipped her shit. Not that Chloe had been exactly thrilled about getting separated from Rush either, mostly because of what it signaled about how badly she and Ginn were getting steamrolled. When she remembered her speech in the Bethesda Metro Station, she could’ve cried. Back then— oh, all of two and a half weeks ago— she’d thought she had finally gotten to naïvete’s limits. Now it seemed endless. You could never underestimate the ruthlessness of power. It was always going to be ahead of you, at least by one step.

Telford waves a dismissive hand. “Like I give a shit who Rush is fucking. Or Young. Or even the redhead, for that matter… Are you going to sit down at some point, or just stand there like an awkward teenager on prom night?” He doesn’t wait for Chloe’s reply. “She does have a certain appealing streak of ruthlessness, the redhead. But she seems like she’d be a lot to handle in the sack.”

Chloe folds her arms obstinately across her chest. “I’m not going to sit down just because you told me to.”

“Is that right? Now which one of us sounds like Rush?”

“I think—“ Chloe says, and stops. Her throat aches, for some reason. “I think he tends to be contagious.”

Telford looks uncomfortable. “Yeah, well,” he says, his voice hardening. “Lots of things are contagious. The bubonic plague. Syphilis.”

“You broke him out of prison,” Chloe points out. “You’ve got to at least rate him higher than syphilis.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, in a smoother tone of voice, he says, “So tell me, how is Little Red Riding Hood in bed? I never hit it. I did get balls deep in Kiva once. Hot, but not worth it. Total dominatrix vibe, as you might expect.”

“Um, I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to know where your balls have been,” Chloe says. She doesn’t know what her face looks like— probably contorted in horror. She knows that Telford wants her to react exactly like this; he’s only saying it because he thinks that it’ll distract her from that emotional splinter. But it’s still like hearing sex talk from your weird uncle or your college English professor. “When you said you could give the SGC strategically useful information, I don’t think what they had in mind was a list of your sexual conquests.”

“Are you kidding? My sexual conquests are strategically useful information. I could practically submit them as my CV for the role of head the goddamn Icarus Project. I mean, I assume the job’s been relisted on LinkedIn.”

Chloe pushes back a strand of hair that’s come loose from a barrette. She feels harassed. “Well, it hasn’t been. And I’m not going to tell you who the current head is, so don’t even bother asking.”

Telford rolls his eyes. “Uh, okay— I won’t ask, then. Gee, I wonder if they brought in Nelson Mandela to do the job? Oh, wait: no, they definitely just gave it back to fucking Young. I swear to God, that man is the living embodiment of a backup candidate. He’s second-rate, but he’s always just there, you know? No matter what he does, somebody else always takes the blame. He never gets knocked out of the running.”

Chloe says steadily, “I mean, I think you brainwashing and torturing him so he wouldn’t know you were a Lucian agent is a pretty good reason for him not to take the blame for that.”

Something in Telford’s expression flinches. An emotion surfaces, or more like a little bitty section of an emotion, the way a prism lets you see the spectral colors of light. Just for a second, a single wavelength of feeling shivers across his face. Then it’s banished, and his face is as smooth and flat and unaffected as the moon’s reflection in water. “You’re mad at me because I killed your dad,” he says, his tone faintly mocking.

“You didn’t, though, really. Did you?” Chloe says. “Some Lucian teenager with a gun did. That’s just a guess. They tend to be pretty young. Not a long life expectancy in the Lucian Alliance.”

“Better than under the Goa’uld,” Telford says.

“Maybe I’m mad at you because of what you did to Rush. You haven’t even asked how much he remembers, you know.”

Telford folds his arms. “I know how much he fucking remembers.”

“I’ve read the interrogation transcripts,” Chloe says witheringly. “You don’t know.” She doesn’t mention that if Telford had known, at any point, he’d be hard-pressed to after the chaos that had surrounded Rush and Young’s departure from the mountain, most of which Chloe didn’t fully understand. “You just— used him till he broke, or till you got bored of him, of till— I don’t know— you couldn’t stomach having him around any longer, and then you dropped him off, literally on my doorstep, for someone else to fix, and took off to go have outer space adventures—“

“Hey, talk to your fucking girlfriend,” Telford snaps. “I was all for Rush coming with me. She’s the one who insisted on hauling him back to Earth, whereupon she does the one fucking thing I said not to do, which is Let the SGC get ahold of him.”

[confessxcheese4tcc]

i dont regret sending hate anons to bladefuck. theyre very annoying in my very honest and humble opinion and i am so close to unmooting my moots that reblog their shit. i do not believe that we are in the big 2024 (almost 2025) and theyre saying shit like this. that stuff wouldve been okay in 2019 but its been almost 6 years. pls grow up the world isnt gonna stop or slow down because of your "audhd autism bpd did npd aspd hpd schizophrenia transshooter transpositive" shit

CONFESSION #426

[ninadove]

You like Miraculous Ladybug and the Professor Layton games, and you write fanfic.

Have you considered writing a crossover of the two?

Oh oh. Not just one.

TWO:

[adarkrainbow]

I was rethinking about how important the use of cultural details is when doing fairytale reinterpretations or adaptations. It is a way of adapting that people tend to forget due to some sort of general agreement that fairytales should escape any type of time-space setting and feel just like a "generic pseudo-medieval pseudo-European" world (except of course if they are set in modern day America, because for the US media the USA is, of course, a setting deemed "universal" enough that should speak to everybody... *cough cough* americanocentrism *cough cough*)

It was something I was already thinking about some times ago, ever since I discovered the Royal New Zealand Ballet's Hansel and Gretel, which has lots of very cool references to various states of German culture, ranging from cinema (the aesthetic of the setting, characters and special effects is meant to evoke the classic mute expressionist movies such as "Nosferatu" or "The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari")...

... to folklore (the show made the insanely clever decision of replacing the bird eating the crumbs in the forest with schnabelperchten brooming them away).

And more recently I have been looking into a 1930 black-and-white French movie called "Cinderella of Paris", that transposes/twists/parodies the Cinderella story within the context of the realistic 1920s Paris.

And the main ball, the equivalent of the titular Cinderella ball, is made into the Sainte-Catherine dance. Which is absolutely fitting and perfect for a Cinderella within an inter-war Paris. If you don't know, up until the mid-20th century, in France Saint Catherine's day was the time of a great popular ball/public dance whose entire purpose was to allow girls of 25 years old or more, yet without a male companion, to find a suitor/husband/boyfriend/fiancé. It was the big time to "solve the problem of the old maids", of which Saint Catherine was the patron - and it was THE big "love day" long before the overwhelming Americanization of Saint Valentine's Day.

All of that to say, I really love the inclusion of little cultural details and elements within fairytales retelling or transpositions - either of the original fairytale's culture, or of the culture in which the fairytale is transposed. Not only does it make the product quite cool, clever and/or interesting, but it also shows that you put a lot of thought into the tale's original setting and the point of moving up to another time period or geographical era. It is the opposite of just slapping a "That's X country" or "That's X time" sticker onto a fairytale without doing much more work.

[nikomedes]

bg3 is a comedy actually

[girljeremystrong]

DEMON COPPERHEAD

[lsbubastudio2]

“William Morris Gallery Exhibition Space & Garden”, Walthamstow, London, UK _ Student: Toby Jost / BA2 _ 10.12.2024

BA 2nd-year students are introduced to the importance of weaving a new architecture within a historic listed building. The main objectives of the design are to re-design the area of the site and to integrate internal and external exhibition spaces and an extended café into a part of the whole area. Both objectives are equal in weight, i.e. “enclosed architecture” does not take precedence over the “external” architecture. The internal exhibition areas should enhance the existing use of the gallery by incorporating an energetic space not exceeding 300 square metres in total. Also, extending the existing café and creating additional kiosks that respond to the needs of the community and promote aspects of the existing landscape as recreational and contemplative spaces. The operations and results are geared to help students develop a basic working method around the ideas of transformation, transposition and displacement of specific elements or/and methodologies into new contexts, providing novel meanings and solutions to the city fabric.

Module 201 _ “TRANSPOSITIONAL REUSE: Making the most of what is there already” _ BAS2 _ 2024-2025 _ Tutors: Spyros Kaprinis and Margarita Germanos.

[jcsmicasereports]

Successful Jatene procedure for great arteries transposition correction in newborn with SARSCoV-2 infection by Guillermo Careaga-Reyna MD in Journal of Clinical Case Reports Medical Images and Health Sciences

Abstract

Pandemic of COVID-19 represents a challenge for treatment of patients with congenital herat disease. We present a newborn with great vessels transposition and positive SARS-CoV-2 PCR test. The patient was submitted to a successful surgical treatment with corrective Jatene procedure, requiring opened chest wall during 72 h of postoperative period and 43 days of total in-hospital lenght of stay.

KEY-WORDS: COVID-19, SARS-CoV-2, great vessel transposition, Jatene procedure, congenital heart disease.

Introduction

Coronaviruses are single stranded ribonucleic acid viruses with a diameter of 60–140 nm and a high rate of genetic mutations and recombinations, rendering them capable of escaping from the immune system and causing novel infections (1). In less than six months, the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic has swiftly spread from one city in China to over 190 countries worldwide (2-4). Neonatal infections with SARS-CoV-2 have been described although robust data on vertical transmission are lacking. In most instances where neonatal infection has been reported, close contact with infected mother or caregiver is postulated to have occurred (4).

In newborns, the case is regarded as positive for infection if any of the following conditions occurs, (1): positive PCR for SARS-CoV-2 in respiratory tract or blood samples, high homology of viral gene sequences of the samples from the respiratory tract or blood to the COVID-19 sequence.

We present a case of a newborn with great vessel transposition and SARS-CoV-2 infection.

Case Report

We present a new born with great arteries transposition associated to aquired SARS-COV-2 infection.

The patient was refrerred to our hospital, with a positive SARS-CoV-2 test, with mechanical ventilatory support in order to confirm a complex congenital heart disease.

The diagnosis was established via echocardiographic evaluation which showed normal venous return, concordance atrio-ventricular and ventriculo-arterial discordance. It was concluded: great arteries transposition, patent ductus arteriosus and permeability of foramen oval.

The patient was recovered from a septic shock with no evidence of systemic inflammatory response requires inotropic support and after stabilization in neonatal intensive care unit, at 10 day in-hospital stay,  was submitted to an open heart surgery consisted in anatomic correction with Jatene procedure. The aortic cross-clamping time was 119 min, with cardiopulmonary bypass (CPB) of 181 min. It was decided to maintain in postoperative period opened chest wall, and after 72 the chest wall closure was succesfully realized with favorable posoperative evolution. After 32 days of postoperative, the patient was discharged from hospital. Actually, two years after surgery, the patient is doing well, only with mild pulmonary stenosis without hemodinamic or clinical repercusion.

Discussion

For infants born to COVID positive mothers should be reasonable to separate him from the mother if will need cardiac surgery to try avoid post-natal infection.

In fact, there is minimal evidence of placental vertical transmisión. In this case, the patient has a positive test for SARS-CoV-2 infection and evolved with septic shock in the preoperative period.

It may also be reasonable to do serial testing on the infant, but there is no consensus on the correct timing surgery should be scheduled with advice from a multidisciplinary team of experts including cardiac medical, cardiac surgical, and infectious diseases as indicated. After evaluation of the clinical conditions for a heart team in our hospital, it was decided to realize the surgical procedure in order to avoid progression of heart damage and irreversible heart failure.

However we must remember that, if prudent, surgery should be delayed until the patient’s symptoms have improved and/or testing has been repeated (often after 14 days) and is negative (5).

On the other side, in older patients the inflammatory response due to SARS-CoV-2 infection has been a frequent complication.

In our patient, probably due to the age, it was no presented even with the septic shock o posteriorly associated to the use of CPB during the surgical procedure

It was concluded taht COVID-19 may affect all age patients. However with cautious evaluation and treatment of associated disease as in our case, the patient improves survival, despite severity of viral illness, and during this pandemic period, patients with active COVID-19, at neonatal period we have no treated any other.

[unmechanism]

a little more than halfway through the transposition of chloe bronte and it's, incredible

truly unique, I can't wait to see where it goes

[officialpenisenvy]

sterek wasn't even problematic

[the-redacted-of-all-time]

this shit got me thinkin man- if this ES thing does have a storyline but isnt even slightly based on wordy sci-fi shit, imma be a lil disappointed, sad, and will proceed to spontaneously combust/hj

(highly likely nah. yknow what tho? imma keep dreamin, make my own storyline!!!)